The Emancipation of Shania

Traditional Family

Shania’s POV

The months passed in blissful harmony. I never thought I could be as happy as I am now, with Liam. He is all the therapy I have ever needed to draw me out of my shell, and to make me accept myself, my past, my body. A few months ago, he had outlined all the reasons he loved a large bodied woman:

“Traditionally, men are drawn to full bodied women because, their bodies symbolize maternal comfort and warmth….and all men are essentially eternal kids. Secondly the curvy woman looks like a real woman, she must look like her body can handling nurturing another life. Men are drawn to that, naturally wanting to plant their seed her, to have a part of him growing inside her. It’s a sign of possession." He paused and smirked. "And I personally, love the idea of planting my seed in you, baby”, he said, drawing me against him and pressing his crotch against me. I giggled. Trust Liam to make any conversation s****l.

He continued, “The more obvious, and common explanation is, there’s so much to hold on to. So much to love” He started to grope me, shamelessly as he said that, squeezing my boobs, and my ass, groaning with pleasure as he did. “Foreplay lasts longer”, his voice dropped lower, and he started to trail little kisses along my face and neck. “And more foreplay, leads to more pleasure. Fat equals happiness, Shania.” His words, his touching, and his light kisses were lighting little fires inside me, and I knew where we would end up. “I want to f**k you right now!” he rasped. And he did.

We really do have a lot of s*x. Some days I feel I should talk to someone about it. Surely this isn’t normal and healthy? Liam assures me it is, when two people love each other and are so in tune with each other, they naturally try to become one at every chance. I accept his reasoning. Because I really love him so much, sometimes I feel I may burst with emotion.

As great and as frequent as the s*x is, It’s not all there is to Liam and I. We connect on every level. We both believe in the existence of God, although neither of us follows a religion. We have the same political opinions, we are both smart and do well in our studies, we like the same type of music and movies. Even the things we disagree on, we have the same approach...we agree to disagree and respect the other’s view.

Its nearly time to break for the winter holidays, and even though Liam is not religious, his parents apparently are. He is expected home for Christmas, and all the traditions that go with it. Riley and Adam are out for the night. We have an unspoken understanding. Since Adam and Liam share the apartment, and we don’t all want to fall over each other, the two couples take turns spending time alone in the apartment. Riley, who obviously lacks modesty, has riddled me with hers and Adams sexploits. I know enough to know I don’t want to be in the same location with them when they’re f*****g. There have been nights when we’ve both stayed over at the apartment with our respective boyfriends. It ended with Liam and I not being able to complete our act, because we were to busy giggling at the cacophony of s*x sounds from Adam’s room. So, yeah, we don’t double date at home anymore.

Liam becomes animated while talking about Christmas at home, as we cuddle up on his sofa one Friday night. It takes him a while to realize I have become tense, and nonverbal. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks suddenly.

“Nothing. Just enjoying your story”, I fake a smile. Mistake. This man can read my soul.

“No. You’ve retracted into your head somewhere, and I can sense when my Shania is not present! You should know that by now”

True enough. We’ve been together for 6 months but Liam in very sensitive to my moods. I ponder if it’s time to have the discussion we’ve been putting off. Liam senses my apprehension.

“Shania, I love you! You are the single most important person in my life. Even if we’ve only been together a short time, I know, down to my bones...down to my soul…that you are IT for me.” He pulls me into his lap and lifts my chin so I am looking into his eyes. I see his genuine concern. I lower my eyes, still ashamed that he puts his entire being on display for me, but I still hide stuff from him.

“Eyes up here!” he commands gently. I comply, and when I Iook into his eyes this time, there are tears in mine. I decide I’m just going to offload. But my throat closes and my voice chokes. “Baby, listen. There is nothing you can tell me…absolutely NOTHING that will change how I feel about you. Even if you kill someone, I wanna be the one you call to hide the body!”

I laugh through my tears. “i***t!” I say, and he smiles. “Ok, I’m going to spill. But I cant be looking into your eyes. You’ll distract me!” I know that he knows that’s a lie. But he lets me get away with it. He quickly pecks my lips and turns me in his lap so that my side is against his abdomen. I follow his gesture for me to lay my head on his shoulder, and he cuddles me close, like a baby.

“My mum was born in India to a simple village Indian woman, who had been seduced and abandoned by a visiting American missionary. Mom was raised mostly in the village, subjected to all kinds of taunts and abuse, because of the circumstances of her birth. Her mother’s family managed to save up enough to send her to the city to get her educated, so that she could escape the village mentality.” I paused and took a breath, and Liam massaged circles on my shoulder, gently, encouraging me.

“The reason I start with my mother’s background, is so you will understand later, why she made some of the choices she did. My father was a visiting professor at her college. Long story short…he seduced her, impregnated her, and planned to go the route of my till now unknown grandfather, who duped my grandmother. My mum wasn’t going to follow in my grandmother’s footsteps, and hurt her family that way. So she begged my father to take her back with him, and she would serve him however he wanted”

Liam whispered a breathy “s**t!” and I paused.

“Sorry. Just continue baby” he encouraged.

“He agreed, they fake married, for the benefit of my mother’s family, and they let her go believing she was going to get a good life in America, and that the curse on my grandmother had been lifted. So that’s how mum came to America, with her qualifications she managed to get a valid visa to stay, and eventually she got citizenship. My father resented her for making a life on her own.”

“My father didn’t have it so easy. His wife ...yeah I forgot to mention before that he was married... left him and took his other two kids, and most of his assets with, when she found out about his Indian adventure. He started drinking, lost his job, lost his driver’s license, basically became a loser all round. He blamed my mother for his misfortunes. She tried her best to make it up to him….to pay him back for bringing her back, but the more successful she became, the, the more bitter he became.”

I catch my breath. “I’m summarizing as much as I can. Please bear with me” I tell Liam.

“It’s your show, baby. You just tell it as you want. We have all the time you need." He kissed my forehead gently

I continue: “Eventually, that resentment started to filter down to me. I became the subject of blame and shame. Mum spent more and more time away from home, concentrating on her career, leaving me with him. Her family back in India were so proud of her achievements and she mislead them into believing she was enjoying a happy married life. She didn’t want to let them down. As for why she continued to stay with my dad, despite being independent and successful...I believe it all came down to plain old Indian values that were instilled in her early in life”

I sigh, the hard part is coming now.

“So anyway, mum was busy living the good life away from home, and there I was with drunk, bitter dad.” I clear my throat. “It started with little insults…about me being the reason his life fell apart. Then, started comparing me to his better, beautiful real kids that were taken from him. I was about 5…barely able to do anything for myself. He wouldn’t feed me for days, sometimes, because he was drunk and passed out. One day I was so hungry, it hurt, I went to him crying asking him to make me something to eat. He said I didn’t need to eat, that I was a fat little freeloader,

I didn’t know what that meant. But that day I started taking care of myself.. My mother barely returned home. When she did, she didn’t stay long enough, she barely noticed the condition of the house…..or me!” I choke with emotion. Liam squeezed me comfortingly.

“So I started feeding myself, whatever I wanted. Not necessarily healthy food…because I was after all only 5! The cupboards were well stocked, as mum ordered groceries to be delivered home. I ate all the ‘good’ stuff. Over the next few years Mom’s visits became less frequent. The money, and the groceries, and the stream of maids, and gardeners came and went. By the time I was 7, I really was a fat freeloader, as Dad kept calling me. He became increasingly more bitter and abusive. I learned to stay out of his way…That pissed him off more, He started calling me an ‘ungrateful b***h just like your mother’”

I make air quotes as I quote my father’s most common insult at me. Liam growled in his throat but didn’t say anything. I felt him tense, sensing it was going to get worse.

 I know the only way I’m going to get through this is by keeping my emotions in check, so my voice becomes flat and emotionless, as I continue. “The first time he hit me…..”